


dean, cas and sam escape from guantanamo bay

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon Compliant, Drug Use, Gen, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, cas and sam get high too, dean uses weed to try and keep the mark under control, it's subtly deancas but it's def deancas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3292784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Aw man..." He flops down onto the other side of the bed and hears another bag of chips get crushed.</p><p>Dean whines up at the ceiling, "Maaaaaan, I wanted to eat those!" </p><p>He lets his head roll to the side and stares at the Mark on his forearm before mumbling, "This is your fault. You crushed my chips."</p><p>The Mark says nothing, just sits there red and swollen, taunting Dean.</p><p>"You're a dick," he says decisively after a moment. "You're a big dick and I don't like you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	dean, cas and sam escape from guantanamo bay

**Author's Note:**

> so it occurred to me today like, "hey, why doesn't dean just get high? I mean, seriously, who has ever wanted to kill someone and followed through on it while high?"
> 
> plus, high!dean is my weakness. SUE ME.
> 
> p.s. moofy I tried to keep this short aND THEN IT JUST KEPT GOING //bangs head against a desk

So, healthy living didn't really work. The sleeping regularly thing, that helped a little. Going cold turkey on alcohol, well... Dean's not sure if that helped control the Mark or if it just hurt him.

Withdrawal  _sucks_.

There's not really any answers in the lore or any of the books they've got in the bunker. Cas still hasn't found Cain yet, Charlie's still looking for stuff in Italy, and Sam is looking in the same books as Dean is.

So what he's trying to say here is, right now? They've got nothing.

Dean sighs tiredly as he looks down at the blunt in his hands, "Well... it's not like it could  _hurt_." 

He kinda doesn't want to stink up his room but he also doesn't want to hear Sam's thoughts on this idea and he doesn't want to deal with getting stoned outside and then the pull between wanting snacks and not wanting to move.

He's a grown ass man. He doesn't have to  _explain_  himself to anyone.

(He still shoves a towel up against the bottom crack of his bedroom door and puts a blanket on top of the vent that leads to Sam's room.)

( _Shut up._ )

It's not like this is new for Dean. Sure, it's been a heartbreakingly long time since he's had the time to get high (or felt safe enough to do it), but he's  _got_  this. 

"Besides," he hums to himself as he sits down on his bed carefully so as not to crush any bags of chips he's squirreled away back here. "How much could weed change in like... nine years?" 

* * *

 

It turns out, a lot. It can change a  _lot_.

So far, he's smoked two blunts and is debating a third, but it already feels like that one time in eighth grade when he went to that chick's party and accidentally ate six weed brownies. He was so high that night that he laid on the floor for like, five hours because his legs "forgot how to be legs." John had to come pick him up from the party.

If  _that_  was strong, this shit is like...  _Superman_  strong.

The thought makes Dean giggle to himself and run a hand over his face, "Oh fuck, Superman..." He giggles some more and rolls over, accidentally crushing a bag of Dorito's. 

It takes him a minute to realize what happened but when he does, all he can do is push himself up on his elbows and pout down at the mess.

"Aw man..." He flops down onto the other side of the bed and hears another bag of chips get crushed.

Dean whines up at the ceiling, " _Maaaaaan_ , I wanted to eat those!" 

He lets his head roll to the side and stares at the Mark on his forearm before mumbling, "This is your fault. You crushed my chips."

The Mark says nothing, just sits there red and swollen, taunting Dean.

"You're a dick," he says decisively after a moment. "You're a big dick and I don't like you."

Again, the Mark refuses to deign that with a response. 

Dean makes a annoyed noise and reluctantly pushes himself upright. His bed, and the entirety of his shirt and boxers, is covered with Dorito dust and what smells like those dumb chicken & waffles Lay's chips.

"Gross," he mumbles as he stands up and brushes as much of the crumbs off of him as he can.

He grabs a piece of Dorito off of his pillow and eats it anyway before pouting even more once he swallows.

"God damn it, those were the  _best_  ones!" 

The Mark isn't silent throughout this, exactly, but it's not quite as loud as it usually is. It feels like an outside voice lecturing him or encouraging him to do bad shit that's a little bit easier to tune out for the moment. 

He debates putting on some pants before going into the kitchen to find some more food but decides against it. His PJ pants are in the bottom drawer of his dresser and ugh,  _so much work_. 

It's the middle of the day so he's kinda surprised when Sam isn't pacing up and down the hallway outside of his room.

Dean takes it as a sign and grins as he jogs to the kitchen, giggling when he almost slips on the tiled floor in his socks.

"That'd be about right," he giggles and takes advantage of the lack of traction to slide his way into the kitchen. "Lives through being a demon and the apocalypse, accidentally impales self on gigantic ancient pokey thing while trying to find the oreo's in kitchen." 

He stops in front of the cabinets and crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes seriously as he taps a finger against his chin.

Now, he knows that they had some... he bought them the last time Charlie came over. They'll be gross and stale, but shit, now that he's decided upon oreo's he's not really feeling anything else. 

So he grabs a chair and pulls it over so he can check in the highest cabinets. That's  _usually_  where Sam hides the junk food that he brings home.

"If I die, I'm haunting Sam's ass for life," he grumbles and starts looking.

* * *

 

And that's how Sam finds him ten minutes later, standing on the counter in his Dorito dust stained boxers and shirt and socks that have strips of bacon on them. Dean's humming something to himself and eating from a box of what appears to be crackers while he shuffles stuff around in the cabinets. 

Sam's not sure if he should laugh or be incredibly concerned that the spell Hansel put on him had some...  _weird_  side effects. 

"Um," he clears his throat tentatively. "Dean...?" 

Dean spins around quickly and just barely catches himself before he falls off the counter and straight onto his ass. He grins brightly and holds up the box of Triscuits like it's a trophy, "Sammy! What's up?!" 

It takes a moment before the smell hits him and then Sam scrunches his face up in surprise (and a tiny bit disgust - he was never partial to the smell of weed), "Dude are you  _stoned_?!" 

The grin on his brother's face just grows and he nods happily before eating about three crackers in one bite.

He answers with the mouthful of food, "Like a fucking cake, man."

Sam looks wholly unimpressed, "Stoned like a fucking  _cake_?" 

Dean's smile falls as he stops to consider that phrasing for a moment.

It's a short-lived reprieve before he starts giggling again and shakes his head as he slides down so he's sitting on the counter, "Whatever dude, you know what I mean. It's cool though, it's cool. I'm ok. Only the chips got hurt." 

"The...  _chips_ ," Sam repeats, the question implied. 

His brother's shoulders slump and he pouts at Sam, "They died, dude. My chips. The Mark... I just - I flopped. And they went..." Dean stares at his hands for an awkwardly long moment before attempting to make an explosion motion with them, " _Poooofffmmmmm!_ " 

Sam crosses his arms over his chest and bites the inside of his cheek so he won't laugh, "They went 'poofmmm'?" 

Dean shakes his head a little, still pouting, "Are you making fun of me? This is very serious, Sammy! They were still so young. They had so much to live for. They had me to live for, Sam. I was  _hungry_!" 

"Jesus christ," Sam snorts and runs a hand over his face, "You really are high."

"I..." Cas' voice interrupts from the doorway, "I don't understand what's happening here." 

As soon as Dean realizes he's there too, his whole face lights up, "Dude! You're here!" He hops off the counter and sets down his box of crackers before sliding over to Cas on his socks.

He pulls the angel into a hug, and accidentally off of the step down into the kitchen, and they both stumble for a second but Cas catches them before they can fall. 

When they're steady he hugs Dean back with an absolutely baffled look on his face, "Um... hello?"

Dean pulls back and grins at Cas, grabbing his cheeks with both hands, "Look at that face! Pretty good face for a dude who's like, literally older than dirt, huh Sammy?" 

Cas' cheeks actually turn a little pink and he looks up at Sam for help, "Um."

Sam chuckles a little and gently pulls Dean back from their friend, "He's high, Cas. Stoned as a, uh..." He smirks and shakes his head fondly, "As a cake, apparently." 

Cas blinks and looks over at Dean, who's standing in the middle of them with a gigantic dopey grin on his face, before looking back at Sam, "Alright." 

"Dude!" Dean gasps after a second and abruptly grabs Cas and Sam's arms, "Did you find something?! Did you find Cain?!" 

They open their mouths to answer but Dean interrupts them again by tugging his brother closer with a scowl, "What the  _fuck_  did you do with my Oreo's, dude?"

Sam scrunches his face up again, "I didn't touch your fucking Oreo's, Dean." 

Dean seems to consider that for a second, deciding on giving his brother the 'I'm watching you' hand gesture as he turns to look at Cas, "Did  _you_  touch my Oreo's, Cas?" 

The angel opens his mouth a few times to answer before squinting at Dean and replying a little hesitantly, "Um... no?" 

They both watch as Dean's shoulders slump in defeat and he lets go of them to go over and get his crackers again. He pulls himself up onto the counter and crosses his legs a little awkwardly. 

Cas takes the opportunity to grab Sam's arm and tug him a little further away from Dean's earshot, "Sam."

He squints up at the taller man a little bit protectively, "Why is your brother high?" 

Sam shrugs and makes a face that must communicate the extent to which he really has no fucking clue what's happening, because Cas doesn't want for an answer before heading back over to Dean.

"Dean," he says awkwardly. Cas is standing close enough to Dean that his knees are knocking against the trench coat.

He doesn't look up from reading something on the side of the box so Cas tentatively reaches out and pokes Dean's shoulder, " _Dean_." 

That seems to get his attention because he looks up at Cas like he's a little startled to see him, before grinning, "Dude, these crackers are pretty good." 

Cas squints again before smiling a little bit, "Yes. We had those crackers at the Gas 'N Sip. They are very good." 

When Dean doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at him while eating the crackers, Cas clears his throat, "Dean... why are you...?" He's not really sure what the correct adjective would be here, especially since 'stoned' feels like it would sound odd coming out of his mouth and make Dean laugh.

Dean pops another cracker into his mouth, "High as a kite?" 

Cas nods with an approving smile, "Yes, that." 

"I 'unno," Dean shrugs and pops another cracker into his mouth before he's even chewed the last one, "Got nothin' else that's working for this stupid dick."

Sam's eyes get a little bit bigger and Cas just looks very confused because he's not sure how that has anything to do with the current situation, but Dean beats them to the punch before they can ask. 

"I mean," he holds out his arm with the Mark on it, "This dude is a  _dick_. I mean, a real fuckin' dick."

The other men relax visibly at the clarification. 

Dean frowns and pokes the Mark with a cracker, "Nothing's working on it, man. Kale or whatever did nothin' but make me hungry as shit. Sleep helped I guess, but still beat the shit outta Charlie, so not workin' like I need it to." 

He takes a break to eat the cracker but keeps his eyes on the Mark, "All givin' up booze did was make my hands shake so damn much I could barely shoot straight and I -" Dean frowns a little more, "Kept seein' things. So, that's not helpin." 

He looks up at Sam and Cas, undeterred by the concerned looks on their faces, "And the books man, the books got shit. I got nothin'."

Dean reaches into the box to grab another cracker and makes an affronted noise when he finds out that it's empty, "Again?!" 

"Dean, wait," Sam steps forward and takes the box from him, ignoring the look of betrayal from his brother, "Before you go off and have a funeral for the crackers or whatever, you still didn't answer  _why_  you decided getting stoned was a good idea." 

He snatches the box of crackers back and shrugs. The grin is back on his face after a moment and he starts giggling, "Can't hurt, right? I mean - have you  _ever_  -" Dean's whole face contorts into a weirdly impressed expression "- heard of anybody who got stoned and  _then_  slaughtered a whole metric fuckton of people?!" 

He starts giggling again and looks up at them, "Man, even if the Mark made me want to Hulk out right now, that sounds like so much fucking  _work_." 

Sam can only bring himself to stare at Dean in disbelief before moving out of the way to let his brother go grab something from the fridge.

It's... well. It's not the  _worst_  idea he's ever heard. 

Cas has his arms crossed over his chest and is watching Dean carefully, like he's waiting for him to trip or something and accidentally get hurt. 

"I'm gonna eat your shitty frozen yogurt!" Dean calls out from where he's bent in half checking the bottom shelves of the freezer and wiggling his butt, "Payback for stealing my Oreo's, asshole!" 

Sam rolls his eyes before running a hand through his hair and bumping Cas' elbow, "So... thoughts?" 

Cas sighs and looks up at Sam after a moment, "He... does seem more relaxed." He looks back over at Dean where he's now grabbing a beer from the fridge with a spoon stuck behind his ear like it's a pencil. 

"Calmer," he finally settles on. "He seems calmer. Less..." 

"Potentially homicidal?" Sam supplies, sounding a little too chipper.

The angel turns to squint at him not completely unkindly, "Yes.  _That_." 

Dean interrupts them by dropping his spoon and whining before bending over to pick it up, "I'm goin' back to my room. You guys are lame as shit." 

He holds up a peace sign before stepping back into the hallway and sliding down towards his room with what can only be described as an ecstatic giggle. 

* * *

 

They did rock, paper, scissors, and somehow Cas has ended up with the job of checking on Dean almost an hour later.

He knocks on the door and clears his throat, "Um... Dean?"

There's music playing loudly inside the room, and there's smoke coming out from under the door, so he's not surprised when Dean doesn't answer him.

Cas hesitantly opens the door and sticks his head in, "Dean...?"

He's laying on his bed with a blunt resting in between his teeth and some comics spread over a clean sheet on his bed.

(He may be high but you're crazy if you think Dean would let his comics get fucked up with Dorito's.) 

"Heyyyy!" He grins at Cas and sits up, waving him in, "Come on in, dude. What's up?" Dean puts the blunt out in an empty glass that appears to be serving as a make-shift ashtray, before standing up and clearing off part of his bed, "Shit, sorry. Gotta be a good host, right?" 

Castiel doesn't say anything, just smiles kindly once Dean has cleared the comics off of a portion of the bed and sits down. 

Dean grabs a water bottle from his dresser before sitting down to join Cas, their knees bumping, "What's up?"

"Um," Cas looks around the room for a moment, surprised by how messy it is with the books and paper, and now food and records, strewn around everywhere, "Your brother and I were worried about you." 

He rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his water, "Not the first time I've gotten high, man." Dean puts the lid back on the water bottle and grins, "You know that."

"Dean," he interrupts before he can say anything else, "Are you alright?"

Dean blinks at him and tilts his head to the side that feels oddly familiar, "In general?" He shrugs, "Uh, not really? But, y'know." He holds up three fingers, "Been three days since I killed anybody. So that's good."

Castiel sighs, slumping a little guiltily, " _Dean_..." 

He rolls his eyes and laughs, "Dude, calm down. I'm fine right now, okay? See?" Dean holds out his arm and grabs Cas' wrist, setting his hand down on top of the Mark, "Use your juju or whatever."

The look he gives Dean is wholly unimpressed but he does use his 'juju' and... the Mark is surprisingly  _quiet_. It's still there, underneath the other stuff, but it's not as...  _overwhelming_  it has been in the more recent times Cas has seen him.

"Oh," he says quietly with a small frown.

Dean snorts, "That's all you got? Oh?" He shakes his head and starts giggling a little, "Figures. I find a safety switch for Mark and my reward is 'oh.'" 

He takes a drink of his water bottle and ignores Cas watching the side of his face. There's still a hand on his arm and he chooses to ignore that too.

Part of him is expecting Cas to lecture him for drinking again, part of him is expecting Cas to just get up and leave with some comment about how he's glad that it's helping. 

There is absolutely no part of him, however, that expects Cas' actual answer.

"Is it pleasant?"

Dean's head swivels around so he can gape at Cas, "Is it - is it  _pleasant_?!" 

He starts giggling and reaches out, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder, "It's... man, it's fucking  _great_." He takes a big gulp of his water and smirks at Cas before reaching out to pat his cheek, "If you weren't all mojo'd up again, I'd get you high as shit. I bet you'd be fuckin' adorable." 

Castiel has a small smile, "I'm not as mojo'd up as you think I am, you know." 

It takes a few minutes for that to process in his hazy brain but when it does, Dean's whole face lights up all over again, " _Dude_?"

Something on Cas' face must answer for him because Dean's face looks like it's going to split in half with how much he's grinning, "DUDE!" 

* * *

 

Three hours. 

It's been  _three hours_  since he sent Cas in there to check on Dean.

Sam sets a book down on the table in the library (he does  _not_  slam it) and gets up with a determined frown. He storms down the hallway and bangs on Dean's bedroom door, using a voice that reminds him a creepy amount of John when they fucked up, "DEAN, OPEN THIS DOOR  _RIGHT NOW_." 

The door  _does_  open, but Castiel and Dean are sitting on the bed eating Dorito's and watching something on Dean's laptop.

Sam opens his mouth to ask what the hell was happening but Dean looks up at him and scowls, putting a finger to his mouth, "SHHHHH, SAM! CAS IS WATCHING STAR TREK FOR THE FIRST TIME!" 

Cas giggles quietly next to him and pauses the laptop, "Dean, you're yelling." 

He looks surprised by this information and starts giggling along with him, falling forward just enough to rest his forehead on Cas' shoulder when he doesn't stop giggling. 

That apparently makes Cas laugh even harder because he slumps back against the pillow and pulls Dean with him.

Sam sputters for a moment before blurting out, "Did you get Cas  _high_?!"

Dean grins proudly up at his brother from where his head has traveled down to Cas' lap, "Yup!" 

When Sam doesn't say anything, just scowls and crosses his arms over his chest, Dean rolls over so he's laying on his back instead of contorted to the side, and smiles sheepishly.

"There's one more on my dresser if you...?" 

* * *

 

The next morning, Dean's laptop is resting on top of a gigantic book and perched precariously in a chair next to the bed.

Sam's feet are resting up on the ledge above the head of the bed. His jeans are unbuttoned from all the food they ate last night, his shirt rucked up a little bit.

Cas lost his suit pants and jacket at some point and ended up stealing a pair of Dean's gym shorts. He's laying almost diagonally across the bed, his feet resting dangerously close to Sam's face.

Dean's in the middle of them, still in the same clothes he wore last night, but he's shifted so his head is resting on Cas' shoulder and his legs are draped across Sam's chest. 

Dean stirs a little bit when Sam shifts at ass o'clock in the morning and somehow manages to flop his way out of bed and onto the floor. He makes some noise as he stumbles out to go take a shower and Dean immediately takes the opportunity to fall right back to sleep.

* * *

 

The next time he wakes up, it's because he hears somebody banging around in the kitchen and making an ungodly amount of noise with the pots.

He whines and attempts to burrow his head back into the pillow he's laying on, but the pillow is a lot firmer and it whines in response.

" _Dean_..." Cas half groans, half whines, and rolls closer to his body heat, " _Stop_."

It kinda startles him when he realizes that it's  _Cas_  he's basically laying half on top of and totally, completely, undeniably clinging to like an octopus. In any other situation he'd freak out and throw himself out of bed so ungracefully that he'd probably break his laptop in the process.

But he's tired and comfortable and Cas is warm and Dean still feels kinda hazy. So he snuffles into Cas' neck again and goes back to sleep.

* * *

 

When Dean wakes up for real, it's apparently almost 11 in the morning.

He's still got his head resting on Cas' chest, except this time he thinks his head might be resting in his friend's lap.

Dean rolls over a little and blinks sleepily up at the other man, "Cas...?" 

He smiles down at Dean and moves one of the lore books out of the way, "Good morning, Dean." 

Dean just blinks at him before reluctantly pushing himself up into a sitting position and groaning. He's getting way, way too old for sharing his bed like that. Especially with two fully grown men who are, by normal standards, gigantic. 

"Hey," he answers eventually, his voice rough from disuse and ugh,  _cottonmouth_. He rubs a hand over his face and lets himself breathe in and out for a few minutes, reveling in the small window of time during the day that the Mark is quiet.

The reprieve only lasts for a few minutes before the Mark starts up again, the low and constant thrum of rage bubbling just beneath his skin.

Cas clears his throat and holds out a glass of water, "Here."

Dean takes it gratefully and chugs the whole thing, trying to get that dry feeling out of his mouth. Trying to distract himself from feeling so...

"How are you feeling?" Castiel interrupts him before he can finish that thought.

He smiles despite himself and laughs, "I'm, uh... awake?" He shrugs and looks at the empty glass in his hands, "Mark's back in full swing. So, y'know... as good as I can be, I guess." 

"So..." Cas rumbles quietly and is careful not to watch Dean so intently, "It helped?"

For the first time in a while, Dean feels a genuine smile form on his face, "Uh... yeah, man. It actually helped a lot." He reaches out and grabs a half-full water bottle from his night stand and chugs the whole thing before turning to look at Cas.

"What about you, dude?" Dean grins, "You enjoy yourself?" 

Castiel has a small smile on his face as he looks down at his hands and nods, "I... yes, actually. It was quite... pleasant."

"Awesome." Dean puts a hand on Cas' knee and crawls over him to get out of bed, "I'm gonna get breakfast. You want something?"

His face scrunches up when he remembers that he's got Dorito dust all over him and he stops to change his shirt at the dresser. 

"Dean," Cas' quiet voice sounds unnervingly sincere from the bed.

"Yeah?"

"I realize that my opinion isn't exactly required around here," Castiel half-mumbles to himself. "But, ah... For what it's worth. It seemed to help you, genuinely. I think - as long as you felt comfortable, it would be good for you. To... keep the Mark under control until we find a solution." 

Dean finally slips into his new shirt and turns, barely looking over his shoulder at Cas with a small smile, "Thanks... I think I might."

He clears his throat after a second and tosses the dirty shirt into the hamper, "So, you want some food?"

Castiel sighs quietly but pushes himself out of bed and stretches, wincing as his back pops in a few places, "Ah, yes... I would like that." 

"Great," Dean smiles and starts walking out of the room with him, "So, Cas... have you ever heard of Harold & Kumar?" 

The angel narrows his eyes at him, "Pop culture download, remember?" 

He rolls his eyes a little, "Yeah yeah, fine, but we're going to watch the first one next time, okay?" 

"Can we eat White Castle while we watch it?"

"Ugh,  _fine_. But then, we're upping your munchies palette. Taco Bell, dude. Chipotle. Shitty Chinese food, man. If you're gonna go hamburger, you gotta go better than fuckin'  _White Castle_." 


End file.
